Chasing Pavements
by Hello Witty
Summary: Sed Lex Dura Lex. The law is harsh, but the law is the law. Hermione Granger just witnessed her best friend and the guy of her dreams marry. Kingsley calls her into his office with a little discussion about Wizarding Law 2778, but what IS Law 2778 really?
1. Chapter 1

**Chasing Pavements**

"You may kiss the bride."

I smiled. It hurt a lot to see my best friend run off with the man I loved, however, they were happy, very happy. I had no right to take that away from them, since, come to think of it, my love was always unrequited. I remember when I was in third year, that I'd write my name next to Ronald's family name, thinking that somehow, in the end, everything will be alright – but fairytale endings don't always happen. Well, for me they didn't. Maybe they did to some people, but unfortunately, I'm not exactly that lucky.

Seeing them together made me both happy and sad at the same time. Luna was playing blushing bride, Ron was… well, being Ron. Their happiness was contagious… well, sort of. I don't really have another word for it and 'infectious' makes it sound like a fatal disease. You might or might not ask me why I'm unhappy, and even if you aren't particularly interested, I'm going to tell you anyway. I'm unhappy because I totally did not see that one coming. It just slapped me across the face, just like that, and I'll tell you, that slap was more painful than being Crucio'd by Bella Lestrange. I shit you not.

Taking one last look at the couple and everyone else who was celebrating with them, I turned my heel and made my way to the church's doors. There goes my… well, probably my only chance to ever get married. After all, who would want a know-it-all bookworm? The answer to that is painfully simple and I don't need anyone to rub it in.

"Hermione?" Screw it. Just when I opened the doors and tried stepping out side, I hear Luna's voice. Why oh why.

"Congratulations, Luna." I say with a smile. You have no idea how hard it is to smile right now. Trust me.

"Thank you. Why are you leaving so soon though?" She says, and I can tell she's sort of worried.

"Kingsley told me to see him immediately after the ceremony," this technically wasn't an excuse. Kingsley DID say I needed to see him after the ceremony, but still, I just can't sit here, can I? "He says it's pretty urgent, so I really have to go. I'm sorry, Luna. I'll make up for it on the baby shower!"

Yeah. Trying to make a laugh out of it just makes it hurt more.

Luna smiled, and made no further qualms about me leaving. I made my way out of the church and apparated to my flat in London, and took a long, hard look at my empty flat. Not too long ago, when I was still dating Ron, we both lived here. This place wasn't the lifeless, dull, gray, thing it was right now. I used to call it home. Home was where he was. However, he is happy now. I have no right to do or say anything that might affect that. I love him, I still do. Fate tells us otherwise though; we were just… too different. I smile to myself and the masochist I've unfortunately become. Pathetic.

I made my way to my bedroom, and upon entering, stripped my gown off, and changed to comfortable work clothes. Yes, you guessed right, a tee-shirt and jeans, and a pair of chucks. Now you see why I'm not the normal choice for men? You can laugh, actually. I'm not even bothered by it anymore – always the prude bookworm, they'd say. I went out of the house, and made my way to the Leaky Cauldron, ignoring everyone who was getting piss-drunk and giving a nod to Tom; I slid to the back entrance and found the wall that connected Diagon Alley to the Muggle World.

Ah, Diagon Alley. It's a really good place to be when you want to lose yourself to a crowd, I guess. It helps me think. I make a stop in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, which is weird considering the day I'd finally be interested in playing the sport would be the day that hell freezes over. I see the newest broom, the Thunderbolt in the huge window, and the many little boys drooling over it. I chuckled. However, the laughter was short-lived when I saw beyond the broom. Draco Malfoy was inside the shop, and he was looking at me as if I had grown wings and a pig snout. I flashed him a smile, which probably looked no better than a line, cocked my head slightly to the side, and then made my way to the Ministry. I need no more encounters with people I didn't need to 'encounter' today.

I walked a little longer, and finally made it into the Ministry's building just before the rain started to pour. Lucky break, huh? Well sure. Even _I_ wasn't _that_ unlucky. Long story short, I just avoided anyone I might've known, and made my way to the elevators. I pushed the button marked '7', and waited as the elevator moved up. The elevator abruptly stopped at four though, and the doors opened. It was Malfoy again. This time, he was the one who gave me 'the nod'. The elevator ride seemed to take forever. We just stood there, quiet, barely acknowledging each other's presence. The thing finally reached the seventh floor, and I could hear Malfoy sigh and say, "Finally."

I made my way to Kingsley's office, surprised that Malfoy was heading the same way. Screw it. I wasn't here to know and even care where the hell Malfoy was going. I'm even surprised he hasn't pulled the 'mudblood' card yet, but then again, that ended four years ago. We were adults now; he would've outgrown that, right? Well, probably not, but it probably wouldn't hurt to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

Malfoy made a frustrated groan when he opened the door of Kingsley's office and discovered that I was going to the same place he was going. Hah. He swung the door open, and was nice enough to let me in first. Hmm. So even Draco Malfoy could be a gentleman, huh? That's new… and quite frankly, I could get used to it. Hah! I wish.

Kingsley's office was painted blood red, with gold accents. It was creepy, but really nice at the same time. Don't you just love the minister? Kingsley's OK and all, but being summoned into his office usually meant bad news, or something that was so outrageous it just made you want to scream. I should know. It was in this office that Ron was named assistant head Auror to Harry. Yes, I just couldn't believe that, OK? Ron isn't exactly the bravest person in the world.

"Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, welcome." A voice from behind called, Malfoy tensed and grabbed his wand from his robes, as did I. Kingsley held his hands up in surrender, with a comical expression of exasperation on his face. "Easy now, it's only me," he says. I breathed out, and put my wand back into my robes. We followed Kingsley into a room inside his office – yes, there was a room inside a room here – where his desk and loads of paper was. The room itself followed the color scheme of the receiving room, as I'd like to call it. Kingsley's chair was black swivel chair that looked like something that came out of a James Bond movie. He sat down, and motioned for me and Malfoy to sit on the equally posh, but didn't spin, chairs in front of his desk.

"You might be wondering why I've called you here today." He states plainly. I rolled my eyes. Well of course we were wondering.

"Well, get on with it." Malfoy said, clearly impatient.

"Hermione," Kingsley began. "Do you remember or do you know, rather, what Wizarding Law 2778 is, right?"

"Wizarding Law 2778, was the law passed down by the ministry after the second wizarding war." I said, clearly not knowing where this discussion was leading.

"And do you know what the Law stipulates?"

I stayed silent. I never actually cared for that one. Why I didn't is a mystery. I usually knew the answers to these kinds of things, but right now, I didn't really care.

"Oh for God's sake Granger. The law stipulates that any witch or wizard who is eighteen or above who survives the war and is unmarried must find a partner within four years… oh sweet Merlin." Malfoy says, suddenly looking mortified. "YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS, KINGSLEY!" he says, raising his voice. "You just can't!"

"I am dead serious, Mr. Malfoy." Kingsley said, smiling. "Unless you were willing to marry Ms. Bulstrode, then you might as well marry Ms. Granger."

"Is there really no one else?" Malfoy complained. "Isn't there any way out of this?"

"Unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy, Sed Lex Dura Lex." Kingsley said. "The Law is harsh, but the law is the law."

Malfoy had a grave look on his face. He closed his eyes, but his facial features were still… hard. "How much time do we have left?"

"Two weeks."

It took me a minute to register everything that was going on. First, Wizarding Law 2778 is the Marriage Law, for witches and wizards eighteen and above, who were unmarried and who survived the war. If they didn't get married within four years, the Ministry was to pick a suitable partner for them. Second, Sed Lex Dura Lex – that meant that the law was harsh, but it was the law. Which probably meant there was no real way out of this, and third, I was getting married to Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Merlin must really hate me. He makes me wonder what I've done to deserve this. I don't really even know what I did to deserve this. Maybe it wasn't even Merlin who was screwing with me right now. Maybe it was just my life. Life is a distasteful, bloody bitch who loves bitching us in the worst ways possible, and then we die; because that's all there is to life, isn't it? Life toys with people. It lulls you into this false sense of security. Your life goes well, really well and then the next minute, you begin to wonder if whatever you did in the past was a lie. Life has this incredible, fool-proof way of crushing people, making them extremely vulnerable, and then, after life has its fun, you die.

However, I will not be a plaything.

After all, I am _the_ Draco Malfoy, and I will not be toyed with. Not by life, not by circumstance, not by anything, lest they pay the price.

I found myself at Blaise's floor in his company building, like I usually do, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. It's a… friendly tradition that started when we both graduated Hogwarts. After the war, everyone needed to get back on their feet again. That wasn't just for the… well, not so fortunate families. The… well, to say the least, wealthier families, especially those who were actually capable of providing jobs for people took a huge blow. The war practically left the wizarding community for dead, and it took a long time for the wizarding economy to be stable again. Trust me, it wasn't pretty. It was hard work trying to get people to invest in something that apparently, four years ago, people didn't buy, or even give a rat's ass about. All we ever thought about before was survival. Screw designer robes and the world's fastest brooms.

Blaise Zabini's company was really getting back into the game, and by that I mean their profits were skyrocketing in ways I'd like to see Malfoy Inc. doing. It is not, however, that Malfoy Inc. was doing badly; it was doing fine under present circumstances, though it really did do better than this before the war, and I am having a bloody hard time trying to manage the thing. I don't really know if it's a good thing to be envious of your best mate and his amazing wife, but yeah. Oh. Didn't I mention Blaise Zabini married Astoria Greengrass? They were really good friends of mine… and business partners.

However, as much as Blaise is my best mate and all that standard bullshit, he has this way of making his guests wait. It's extremely frustrating. Had he no idea who he was… making wait? I'm Draco bloody Malfoy for Merlin's sake. I don't give a shit if we are best mates or whatever the bloody hell, I've been sitting out here for two hours, waiting for word that Zabini hasn't suffocated himself in his 'business meeting'. Hmph. Business meeting my ass. If I knew better, he was in there shagging Astoria as I rant. Screw this. I try staring blankly at the ceiling; it got boring quite fast though. That was so damn sad.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Blaise's assistant, a plump, slightly older woman – per Astoria's request – finally came up to me and said, "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini will see you now."

Well finally. Blaise was in a 'company meeting' when I got here and after what seemed like… well, forever, to say the least, the bastard finally got out of his office. Blaise and I were fire and water, wind and earth, black and white. He was the kind of guy who always took things lightly, did whatever he wanted, when he wanted. I was nothing like that. Though both our fathers were death eaters and… pretty much a Voldemort's biggest fans, Blaise's father never imposed on him. My father was simply in love with the idea of killing me, his son. Hah. Some father.

"Draco!" he greeted cheerfully. See, this is why I know that he didn't come from some bloody company meeting. Usually, company meetings left Blaise… cranky and… well, generally not in the mood to talk.

"Blaise," I greet back, trying to hide the fact that I knew something. It was hard to look Blaise in the eye in times like this – because if I did, I'd just laugh my arse off. What, just because I'm a Malfoy I can't find things funny now, huh? That's no way to live. He – Blaise – cocked his eyebrow, and I tried to hold my laughter in. His grin turned into a smirk. We both start laughing. Hah. This Blaise was my best mate. Blaise was the kind of friend who wasn't the one to bail you out of trouble, but was in trouble with _you_. We don't always see eye-to-eye, but who says friends always do anyway?

"So, how may I offer my services to the _great_ Draco Malfoy?" He said, quite comically whilst leading me into his office. Blaise sat at the couch in the middle of the room, right before his desk, and placed his feet on his coffee table. And that, right there, is another difference between Blaise and I – I don't do coffee tables. I sigh and take the couch directly in front of him.

"Have you heard?" I asked. The question itself left me uneasy. The thought of the apparent marriage that is to ensue still hasn't sunk in. I doubt it ever will, honestly. It's hard to take something you don't care about seriously – and it's even harder when you yourself think it's a joke that the world is playing on you, the unlucky simpleton.

"I might've. There's nothing that doesn't reach my ears eventually. But that does, however, depend on what we're talking about." He says. He's mocking me. I can feel it. Zabini never took me seriously when I was serious, and took me quite seriously when I joked. Ironic, isn't it?

"Screw the act Blaise."

"Why, Mr. Malfoy, I honestly have no idea whatever you mean."

"Alright, if you're so keen on pretending not to know, mate, I have a few hints for you. Get ready." I said, sarcastically. "Wizarding Law 2778."

I couldn't read Blaise's face when I said Wizarding Law 2778. It was a mix of shock, amusement, curiosity and… stuff in the middle, but yeah. That's what it looked like. Blaise must've been, at the very least, shocked because… well, his calm and collected Zabini demeanor had just so suddenly disappeared.

"When and to who." He finally said, trying not to laugh but… failing miserably. Some friend he was.

"In two weeks. Hermione Granger."

"You can't be serious." He said, his laugh fading quickly. He always had a soft-spot for mudblood Granger. He was always against picking on Potter-Squad simply because she was there. If it hasn't occurred to you yet, Blaise Zabini had… or even still has this… schoolboy crush on Hermione Granger. "I thought she'd ended up with Weasel-bee!"

"That's exactly what I said to Kingsley when he told me I was marrying her." I said. Of course, everyone was convinced that Wizarding Law 2778 was the world's biggest joke, and well, I guess this just cuts the cake. My marriage just happened to be the punch line. No one dare believe of the Ministry's choice when told at first. It was understandable, but still very unsettling and disturbing. "Apparently, Weasel-bee ended up marrying Loony Lovegood."

Blaise laughed. "That's rich!" I honestly didn't see what was so funny. He just continued laughing. Moments later, he stopped and said, "C'mon Draco. Who is it, and when are you getting married?"

"I'm not joking, mate." That very statement was enough to leave Blaise speechless. He studied me for a while; apparently he could never believe that I was marrying Granger – not that I blame him. Two days ago, I would've said the same thing. I'd look at you as if you had grown three heads and a tail, then laugh at your face and tell you to go admit yourself to Saint Mungo's. I'd tell you that you were crazy – but right now? I'd ask you where I could run to hide.

"Wasn't there anyone else?" Blaise can lie to anyone, but he can't lie to me. He thinks I'm no good for her. He's probably right though. Granger was a war hero. I'm Death Eater Junior. She's Gryffindor, I'm Slytherin. There couldn't be more of a difference than that, could there?

"I wish." I say, chuckling mirthlessly. "Unless you want your best mate to marry Millicent Bulstrode, then no, there's no one else."

"Do you even think you'd get along with her?" He asked. Wasn't he making an effort to be subtle.

"Get along with whom, Mudblood Granger?" I said, laughing. "Mate, I don't think I'd get along with her at all, much less live with her without killing her."

"You can at least try, Draco." He said, creasing his eyebrows. It was rare to even see this side of Blaise. "It's been four years after all, and you have no way out of this. The law is the law, and if you're getting married, you might as well try to live with each other while trying not to kill each other."

"Why the bloody fuck does everyone use that sentence against me!" I said, flailing my hands up in exasperation. Damn it all.

Blaise looked at me for a while with a solemn expression on his face. I didn't know who he felt sorry for, Granger, or me. However, I think it's more likely he was sorry for Granger, and not his best mate. Damn him to hell if he actually thought that. The awkward silence continued on, and the only sound that was made was the sound of fire cracking in the fireplace. Blaise sighs.

"Want to go for a drink, mate?" Blaise says finally, smirking while he was at it.

This was what friends were for. "Well do I."

Today is the day before the day that… I get wed, and the day that I decided to visit my parents' graves, and ask them for the blessings I know they'd never give me, even in the afterlife; if there was such a thing. I promised myself I'd come here before my wedding, and I intended to uphold that promise even given the current situation I was in. I could see them both right now, telling me to go and run, or use whatever is left of the power that the Malfoy family holds just to stop this travesty of a wedding.

After all, they wouldn't want me to sully the Malfoy name, would they? Hell, I bet they'd tell me to marry Bulstrode simply because of blood purity, which I have never actually believed in, but continue to abuse. Why? Don't ask. I don't know the answer to that question myself. You can say its pride, or that it's just something I grew up with. But that doesn't make it much of an excuse, I guess. Hey, I grew up too you know – and growing up proved to be a harsh thing, because it was when I grew up that I realized my entire life was wrong.

This whole affair of even coming to the cemetery made me uneasy. Apparently, I still had that nerve inside me; that one nerve that wanted to please mother and father, the same one that I don't need. It just got worse as I approached their graves. It was in the Malfoy Family Plot, under this huge, shady tree. It's amazing how their graves were still… luxurious even after what they did, simply because their family name was Malfoy. It's something I don't get to this day.

Yes. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy died during the second wizarding war. If you're going to pity me, I tell you right now. Do not. If you asked me if I loved them, I can't answer you honestly. However, if you ask me if I'm thankful, then yes. They did after all, give me my life; one life that I was hell-bent on not ruining further.

No, I'm not saying marrying Hermione bloody Granger would magically make everything better. This isn't some cheesy love story, where everything just gets better and better my friend. Far from it, since people who were in love stories, are usually _in love_, not just... forced to get married by some stupid law passed down which you forgot about. I don't even know why I'm here. Why I don't just escape while I still have the chance. That'd very well be what my parents would tell me to do, not that I was willing to let them tell me what to do any further.

I knelt down and lay the flowers in between the two graves, touching my mother's stone, but daring not even look at my father's. I don't hate him; I just… don't want anything that has anything to do with him. Not anymore. "Mother, father. I'm getting married tomorrow, and I just thought… you should know."

I stood up, and then I stared blankly at the gravestones. Whoever thought of the words on them were idiots – seriously – Lucius Malfoy; 'loving father'? Loving father my inheritance. Why didn't I notice those before? Simple. When they were first buried, I wasn't there. I didn't attend that… that sad excuse for a funeral. You know, when someone dies and you're the only one who goes to their wake, that's just a sad, sad thing to do.

Not to mention the fact that it hurts, especially when they're your parents.

I turned my heel and tried to leave, but then I notice someone else arriving in the cemetery. She didn't seem to notice me, but I was curious. Who would go to a cemetery at this time of year? Well, that includes me, of course, but I have my reasons. As I observed further, I notice that it was… Granger?

What could mudblood Granger possibly be doing at a Pureblood cemetery?

She stayed there for a few minutes, possibly talking to whoever was in that grave. Later, she put her finger under her eyes, so I assume she was wiping a tear off. She took another look at the grave, then she left. Out of curiosity, and after making sure she was really gone, I went over to the grave she visited – and I was shocked to see what was contained on the gravestone.

**Frederick Gideon Weasley**

_April 1, 1978 – May 2, 1998_

_Son, brother, friend and lover. Joker before all else._

_May he rest in peace._

Mudblood Granger was with Not-So-Funny Weasley? Which makes it safe to assume she wasn't a prude? Amazingly shocking revelations came one after the other now, huh? This calls for a drink.

I woke up the next day with a throbbing headache. I shouldn't have drunk so much last night. As I rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, I remember. Waking up? The next day? Oh god. I stood up, and even though I was groggy, I didn't even care anymore. I walked up to my closet, and I picked the first thing I could find, practically slapped it onto myself, and sighed.

Did I really want to do this, or should I just escape while I had the chance? It was a choice, and I'm no good at making choices. I got out of my room in ten seconds flat and tried to make myself look decent with magic – while trying to look for a hangover potion while I'm at it. My head still hurts like bloody, sodding hell. I took a look at the clock. 9:35. Bullshit, I'm almost late.

"Norri!" I yelled, and with a pop, my house elf was in front of me. She was a delicate little thing; she was a replacement for Prongs after my dad killed him just before he himself died.

"M-m-master?" She says tentatively. She didn't seem to understand that I wouldn't kill her if she screwed up. I wasn't that kind of person was I?

"Norri, can you please get me a hangover potion, and a decent pair of shoes?" I said, trying not to scare the poor thing. I was actually sympathetic to house elves. They served us, did a pretty damn good job on it, so I don't really think it's fair to just treat them like dirt. Of course, father wouldn't understand that.

"R-r-right away sir." She said, disappearing once again, with another pop. I tried fixing my hair, the platinum blonde Malfoy trademark. I was quite proud of that. It was probably one of the only 'normal' Malfoy trademarks there was. A few seconds later, I hear another 'pop'. Norri was back with the potion and… well, for a house elf she did have a decent taste in shoes. I smiled.

"Thank you, Norri."

The house elf herself smiled back. "All the best for you today, young master."

And with that, I apparated to the Ministry.

I seem to have made it in one piece – thank God – to the Ministry, and found myself in the lobby. Long story short, I just avoided everyone and everything that I could avoid. It made things so much easier on my part, especially since… well, I just didn't want to talk to anyone; simple as that. Most people take it as me being snooty because of my last name.

Let's be honest. It isn't. There's a big difference between not wanting to talk to someone because you simply don't want to, and not talking to someone because there's nothing to talk about. While I myself am not into the idea of just shutting people out of my life – no man is an island, no matter how cheesy and overused that phrase is, it holds some water. I'm just that kind of person. I keep it real – especially now that I don't have to hide anymore. It feels liberating.

I made my way to the seventh floor, where Kingsley's office was. Granger was already there, when it occurred to me that not once in the two weeks we had, did we speak or plan anything out. That wasn't anything like Granger… wait, screw that. That wasn't anything like… me. She was wearing a pretty much plain dress, but it suited her. She looked good, even if that dress wasn't anything like what a Malfoy bride would wear.

I took a deep breathe and walked over to Kingsley's desk, where the piece of paper – to be politically correct, our marriage contracts – mocked me. Those shouldn't even exist. I start to wonder if I'm just piss drunk and if all of this was just a dream or if it was reality.

If it was, reality was for people who lacked imagination, ergo, it sucked.

"Well," Kingsley started. "Let's get this over with."

Granger paled, and she sighed. For the first time since I met her, I saw her looking… lost. Like she didn't have a plan and she didn't know what to do. She didn't look like the smartest witch of the century, she just looked like a little girl who was lost and was desperately trying to find her way home. I also saw fear in her eyes. Though I wasn't fond of her, I did feel a little sorry for her.

Unfortunately, I had a heart too, however mangled or… ice cold it was.

"Take her hand, Draco," Kingsley says, and so I did. He says a funny incantation, a spell I didn't recognize, then he pronounces us husband and wife.

"No vows?" Granger asked, looking surprised.

"You can't vow to love someone for the rest of your life," Kingsley said solemnly, "…and not mean it. This might be a marriage, Hermione, however, it'd be extremely inappropriate to make you both promise something that you won't be able to uphold."

I tried to protest. I tried to say that it was against tradition, but my words died in my throat. As much as I hate to admit it, Kingsley Shacklebolt was… he was right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

A marriage with no love, no ring and no symbol of our non-existent vows. I'd be a hypocrite if I said I approved of the travesty of a ceremony that was held an hour ago. That was no real marriage, just a binding ritual. Whoever said it was would be blind. However, I know that Kingsley was right not to make us say vows. It wouldn't be right. We'd both be just lying to ourselves – not that we weren't already. This marriage is a sham. My whole life in the past three years has been a lie, and right now, I really had no idea how to get back on my feet again. Given the current situation, I don't think that'd be any time soon. It's amazing how circumstance and… laws could toy around with people. Especially like this – becoming bound to someone you've not been in good terms with for the rest of your life was just… dreadful. Sometimes I wonder what I did for fate to treat me so cruelly.

My life was to change in many ways, starting right now – becoming the Malfoy Bride was no where in my plans, and I haven't a plan for it now that it happened. It was just sick to think that I was to be faithful and to take care of Draco Abraxas Malfoy, so long as this marriage is effective, and if what Kingsley said was true, then unless something inexcusable happened, we couldn't separate. I wonder what 'inexcusable' meant for them anyway. Why couldn't they just say that unless one of us kills the other, then maybe they'll consider the divorce? Hah. Yes, I know that was a bad joke, but do you honestly think I can help it right now? I mean, it's pretty amazing that I'm still on my feet and well, am not crying. I mean, every girl dreams of being wed to the person she loved the most. Every girl dreams of that perfect fairytale wedding. Every girl does that – and I'm a girl. For once in my life I'd wish for something to go right.

However it seems that Merlin is screwing with me and intended for my fate to go left. Typical. Just bloody typical.

Malfoy and I stepped out of Kingsley's office and out of the building still not uttering a single word to each other. His face was emotionless – unreadable, much so he didn't even pull any insults. He took a deep breath and breathed out, and we continued walking for another two blocks. The ice was… pretty much unbreakable at this point, and even if we wanted to talk, what's there to say? 'Hey, we're married now might as well live happily ever after with lots of babies?' Oh god that just sounded so wrong, even in my head.

Malfoy stopped in front of this fancy-looking café, which was apparently called, 'WildKat'. An usher opened the door for us, and Malfoy stepped inside, with me following closely. The inside of the café was in… surprisingly, was in Gryffindor colors. Red and gold. Why Malfoy would even pick this place to eat was beyond me, since he prided himself in being "a pureblooded Slytherin", and all that bullocks. The usher led us to an empty table for two, and handed us a menu.

Apparently, most of the things on the menu were sweets, and even if there was actual food, they were either just steaks, or easy snack food. It was hard to imagine that Malfoy was actually a sweet-tooth, so I assume he's either here for the steak, the snacks or the coffee.

"The usual." He tells the waitress, who was practically blowing Malfoy with her eyes. She was panicked as she wrote on her notepad, muttering something that sounded like, 'what the hell is his usual!' and finally, maybe she decided she'd ask the other people what Malfoy's usual was, she asked, "And for the lady?"

Malfoy turned to me. He wasn't glaring or anything, so I took that as a good sign. I scrambled for the menu. I heard Malfoy chuckle. "Give her the same thing." He says, and the waitress nodded and hurried to the counter.

"My mother and I used to come here a lot when I was a kid." He offered, trying to be nice. He wasn't smiling, and I don't think there was a hint of positive emotion in that sentence, but at least he was trying to start a conversation – wait, hold up. Malfoy? Conversation? Me? Those three don't add up! Calm down, Hermione. It's been… what, four years? Malfoy might've matured a bit now, right?

"That's nice," I say, not knowing how to respond to how Malfoy opened up. He sighed. I bet he realized it wasn't working. He well, for the lack of better word, looked at me – looked, because he wasn't glaring, nor was he staring. He was… studying my reactions. It wasn't anything I was used to. Draco would usually just throw snide comments and tell me I was a mudblood. That would've been easier. The silence was killing me inside, and the fact that we had nothing to talk about… that was worse.

He looked away. He took a deep breath and exhaled, and looked me straight in the eye. "First things first, Granger." He says urgency apparent in his voice. It was the kind of voice that forced you to listen, and it didn't matter if you didn't want to listen. That tone simply dragged you in. He hesitates. "Scratch that, it's technically Malfoy now."

I need not be reminded.

"I'm not really so sure how to go about this marriage," he states, looking bored, "but everyone else says I might as well try to get along with you. So I will. But remember, I said try. No real reassurance there."

I nod. He was… making sense and hopefully being reasonable – so why not just give him the benefit of the doubt?

"So. My terms are," He says like this was some kind of business deal and not a serious matter like marriage. It was pretty much insulting, but at least that was the Malfoy I knew. He didn't really change much, and that's a good thing. At least I don't have to expect a hormone-ridden twenty-three year old trying to harass me. He'd probably say he was too… 'Pure' for that. I rolled my eyes at the thought. Then again, Malfoy may be a prat and a bloody wanker, but one had to admit that from an objective point of view, Malfoy was easy on the eyes.

"First, you must take the last name." He says, a lot of hesitation in his eyes. I bet he thinks I was to disagree. I would've, actually, but the law states that I cannot.

"Done." I said, taking to consideration that… well, there really was no bloody way around this. He looked a little stunned at first, but then he quickly regained composure, and continued.

"Second, we _will_ live in the manor." He pauses for a while, but then continues. "I know you had a… traumatic experience there post haste, but it's the most comfortable estate we have in this country. And it's near London."

Of course I've suffered tremendous trauma there. I was Crucio'd by Bella Lestrange right in that very mansion – which, apparently, I now have to live in. You know what? Bloody, sodding hell. I wasn't so sure I wanted to agree with that. I considered my options for a second. Living in Malfoy Manor would be OK, I guess. The place was huge and we probably wouldn't have to see each other much, granting that we didn't share a room – which was likely. Malfoy wouldn't want filth on his bed. Second, it was quite close to London.

Malfoy looked at me, his eyes bore deeply into mine, and I could tell he knew what I was thinking.

"We have the biggest private library in the whole of England, and it's all in Malfoy Manor. And, you can have the entire east wing if you want – we'd barely see each other. We'd just see each other during breakfast, lunch and dinner, that's pretty much it."

We didn't have to see each other? See each other only during meals? Biggest private library in England? Jesus, was he serious? I can feel myself smiling involuntarily. Malfoy smirked.

"So… is it a deal?" He asked tentatively. As if he even needed to ask. I nod. However, I couldn't help but credit Malfoy's attempt at civility. Right. Draco Malfoy and civil. Those two things just don't sound right in my head. I looked at him – not sure if this was actually Draco Malfoy, and not someone else. Draco Malfoy? No offense, but even years after his father's death, I would never have thought that he'd let go of all that pureblood supremacy bullshit.

It didn't take long before the waitress arrived again – this time with what looked to me like… two mugs of coffee and a huge plate of… cookies? Wait, what? Malfoy ordered his 'usual'. Did he 'usually' come here to eat cookies, and drink coffee? He didn't seem the type at all!

"We decided to have all the cookies in one plate, sir." The waitress said, her voice shrill and there was something about it – her voice – that led me to think that was nervous. Typical. Malfoy had this effect on women who didn't know better, even back when we were at school together. I remember this one time when we were partners in potions, wherein this girl handed him all her supplies just after he'd ask her to. Despicable cur.

He nodded at her, and when she asked if there was anything else we wanted, Malfoy gave her a curt, "No," and after that, she left – well, she technically half-ran back to the counter, and started audibly squealing. I sighed. Poor soul.

Malfoy reached for one of the cookies, and broke it in two offering the other half of what he broke to me. "These taste quite good, you know." He said, already nibbling on the half-cookie he had on his hands. He smiled as he ate. Was it just me, and my overactive imagination, or was Draco Malfoy genuinely happy?

Deciding that there probably was no harm in it, I took the half that he offered me. He looked at peace somehow. It was a side I never saw. There was probably more of that to come though, those 'sides I've never seen'. I observed him for a while, and when he noticed, he cocked an eyebrow, stopped eating, and asked, "Is there something on my face?"

That knocked me out of my reverie. "Ah. No." I said, desperately trying not to blush after that blunder.

"I see." Malfoy said, smirking now. The bastard. "Tell me about yourself, Granger."

Old habits really did die hard. Malfoy seems to have forgotten that it's 'Malfoy' now, no longer 'Granger', however much I would've wanted to stay 'Granger'.

"Well," I started, not knowing what to say. I never knew how to 'tell someone' about myself, nor did I try finding out how. "I'm an Auror at the Ministry." I offered, and Malfoy rolled his eyes. I pouted. His fault for even asking.

"Nothing generic, Granger. Your being an Auror is a known fact." He said, sarcastically.

"Why the bloody hell do you even want to know, Malfoy?" I said, my voice slightly raised, and well, slightly embarrassed.

"Merlin, Granger, keep it down." He said, humorously. "You know, there's this saying that you have to know everyone you're to have live with you in your house. That's what I'm doing."

"Don't worry; I'm not going to kill you in your sleep. Hell, if you're true to your promise, we wouldn't even see each other."

"Touché, Granger." Malfoy said, smirking again. "Feisty, aren't we?"

"Asshole." I said, and watched Malfoy doing a comical 'hand-over-chest-clutching-heart-feigning-hurt' thing.

"You wound me, Hermione." He said, with that infernal smirk which somehow just wouldn't leave his face – when I realize something. What did he just…?

"What did you just call me?"

Malfoy took the last piece of cookie. Apparently, he'd been eating while I sat there, overthinking things.

"Hermione." He said, nonchalantly.

"We aren't exactly on a first name basis, Malfoy." I told him, crossing my legs, chin on fingers, ala Mr. Burns of the Simpsons. Hah. My gesture seems to have surprised Malfoy, but he didn't allow himself to look surprised for so long.

"Because I can." He shot back, his voice smooth.

So, within thirty minutes, I've decided that Malfoy wasn't so bad – however, I wasn't sure if I could live in the same house with him and not kill him, even though I only saw him during meals. We clashed too often, and because of that I could tell my life had taken a turn for the interesting.

* * *

Hey guys. I'm sorry for not updating soon - I had no morale to do anything at all, and for that, I'm sorry. ._.;; So, that's chapter three. You might want to read chapters one and two again, since, I edited them.

Reviews, concrit and all that are welcome and appreciated. :)

- Reese


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

A pale light showed itself through a tiny gap in between my curtains. It was morning. The manor was quiet today. Too quiet. I looked over to the clock on the wall – it read 8:41AM. Usually, at this time, the manor would be loud with the noisy clatter of spoons, plates, and… well, just the house elves getting breakfast ready, really. I contemplated staying in bed a little longer, but then I began to wonder. What the hell was happening? What were the house elves doing? What was _she_ doing?

Hermione had just moved into the Manor last week without much protest, even though she really did not want to. I kept true to my promise though – we saw each other only during meals and she had the entire east wing to herself. Life actually continued on normally, well, that is, for me. My daily routine was same as it was – I'm not too sure about Hermione's though, because, aside from the fact that we don't see each other and that I really could care less, when we do actually see each other, we do not talk.

Our last real conversation was at WildKat. None after that.

Then again, I never promised to sweep her off her feet. All I promised was that we would be civil with each other until one of us finds a way out of this.

I tried going back to sleep – but to no avail. I sighed. I got up and put on a green silk robe, and got out of my room, and made my way to the dining hall. The room was set, there was food – though it didn't look like the usual thing that was served in our table. I looked around, but there were no house elves to be found. It was strange. I sat down, picked up a piece of toast, and picked up the Prophet.

I wondered how the Prophet even made it to my table. The prophet wasn't even a news source anymore, it turned into some kind of gossip tabloid after the war – when everyone decided it was not a reliable news source, and because most of the people who are running it now are… well, the new head was Ms. Slag of the Year, Lavender Brown, surely that must tell you something. On top of the paper was a card, in a script that I very well know was Blaise's.

"_You're in the paper. The headlines are hilarious. You have to read them._

_- Blaise."_

I was almost afraid to even look at the paper now – but I did anyway, out of curiosity. For people with a sick sense of humor – much like Blaise, apparently – they would find this headline funny. But I, being the subject of the headline, do not find this funny at all. Not. One. Bit. I am appalled to find that the headline which my friend has supposedly found extremely amusing read,

**Most Eligible Bachelor in London No Longer Eligible?**

'No longer eligible'? Seriously? I twitch at the fact that I am actually intrigued with what the author of the article has to say about me. Normally, I would not give a shit. Not at bloody all. But I am Draco Malfoy. Once the famed Slytherin Sex God – I would never actually say that out loud though – and apparently, the former most eligible bachelor in all of London. I start reading the article – however, I fear that what I read wouldn't be pretty.

**Most Eligible Bachelor in London No Longer Eligible?**

_By Padma Patil_

_Monday, 30__th__ of August – Last week, Draco Abraxas Black-Malfoy (CEO of Malfoy Enterprises, five time winner of Witch Weekly's best smile) was hitched with Ms. Hermione Jean Granger (Auror; Order of Merlin first class, SPEW advocate, and lawyer) as per requirement of Wizarding Law 2778 – or the Marriage Law. "Truly a match made in heaven." Says Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic who was said to be the one to bind the two together. We have no official statement from both Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy at this moment, but more than half of London's female population is devastated…_

Padma Patil? The name didn't seem to ring any bells. This has now confirmed my thoughts on the Prophet, and the piece of horse dung it has become, as well as my thoughts on the people who run the thing. I couldn't bring myself to read the rest of the article. There were a number of things wrong with that article. First, as much as I'd hate to admit it, I'd only won best smile four times, not five – the last one I lost to the boy who just wouldn't die. Second, I highly doubt Shacklebolt would say something like 'match made in heaven', and third, fat chance I'd ever be giving your sorry lot a statement. However, on the subject of women devastated, then… no comment. Not much to be said there. Fourth, I'm simply appalled at the lengths they go to stalk me. It's no longer flattering. It's scary as hell. I shall tell Blinky to remind me to have my lawyers to write me a restraining order for a certain 'Padma Patil'.

While still in my reverie, I didn't notice Hermione taking a seat. "Good morning." She says casually, taking a piece of toast from the basket. I nod at her. We ate breakfast in silence, like we did the past week. Breakfast – and all other meals if we're being honest – was a quiet affair; we didn't have much to say to each other. From the corner of my eye, I can see that Hermione has taken interest in the Prophet that was sitting in front of her. Then, she turned to me.

"You actually read the Prophet?"

There was a tone of humor… and disgust all at the same time in her voice. Almost as if she wanted to laugh. Not that I can blame her – the Prophet was a joke.

"Blaise sent it to me." I said, treading cautiously. "I was on the headline."

"Hmmm."

"So, where are you off to?" I ask her.

"To work, actually. I assume you're skipping yours, again?" She said casually, taking another sip of her coffee.

"Of course." I reply nonchalantly. "I mean really, what's a powerful man if he isn't powerful enough to skip work once in a while?"

She laughs; she's clearly amused at what I said and looks at me with a smile. "You don't skip work once in a while; you skip work all the time!"

"And how would you know this?" I tease; I mean really, it can't be that bad to flirt with your _wife_, right?

"The House Elves…and Blaise, I think I just got my fifth owl from Blaise this week telling me to get you out of bed." She says.

"And, I haven't seen you do that once?" I challenge.

"I'm true to my word, Malfoy," she said, getting up from her seat. "I promised that I wouldn't bother you at all, and we see each other only meal times and we wouldn't even have to talk."

I sigh. "Look, Grange—I mean, Hermione, you can talk to me too, you know."

This causes her to raise an eyebrow.

"What I'm saying is that whether we like this or not we're here together. We might at least make this mutually satisfying."

"No Malfoy, I'm not getting into bed with you." She says with a disgusted look on her face.

"I don't mean that either, but if you wanted to I'd be more than happy to oblige, really."

She rolled her eyes.

"See you at dinner. Or not."

She turns her heel to leave, and I watch her as she goes out the door. 

* * *

OK, it's been forever since I updated this story, and to tell you the truth, I would've probably given up on this had it not been for a PM I received from **edwardsoneandonlylove**. I couldn't find the will to or anything so, yeah. I'm continuing this story, but please expect rather slow updates, I'm sort of busy, since it's almost my senior year in high school and I'm taking review classes for college entrance tests. So yeah.

This chapter was boring too. I hope the next one won't be.

- Reese~~


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